Fame's Loyal Puppet
by Takafumi-kun
Summary: "Wanting to be famous is like being a martyr, Arthur! Don't you understand? Those people won't give a damn if something happens to you- but I will! Can't you see...? You have become Hollywood's puppet, allowing them to manipulate your strings as they please." USUK, AU. The rating will go up soon.


**Fame's Loyal Puppet**

Chapter 1

_Buried Memories and Forgotten Truths_

* * *

I remember, I don't remember, which year was that, again? I recall that it was back when the internet really started blowing up and flip phones where the new fad all across the States; probably all over the world. Instant ramen from overseas threatened to rival good ol' mac n' cheese, and I would not stand for it, even tough Kiku had insisted that despite both meals being junk food, instant ramen didn't have nearly as much fat as the latter.

Back then, the people who showed up in TV were the ones who ruled the world. Or at least so Arthur and I thought, until, depending on what your perspective is, either a lucky break or a horrible coincidence came his way.

Yes, when I mention Arthur, I'm talking about _that_ Arthur.

_Arthur James Kirkland (born on April 23__rd__, 1980, in Nottingham, England) is a British actor and journalist. He is mostly known for his role as Lucas Campbell, a main character in the popular North American TV show _Forensic Race_. After the recordings for the show ended in late 1998, Kirkland has begun to pursue a journaling career, and as of early 1999 he works as a columnist for a local newspaper in Brighton, his current place of residence._

According to the internet, that's exactly who he is. A famous actor; nothing more. It kind of… Outraged me to see that they're describing him as such a two-dimensional person—If you continued reading and knew him as well as I did, I bet your sweet ass you'd be upset out of your mind.

Then again, fame always changed people, and… Maybe that was exactly what had happened to him. I hadn't received a call, a letter, an e-mail, not even a telegram from him in the past two years.

* * *

"But, Alfred, I don't really want to go… Everything is here. My family, my friends, you…"

I had smiled, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Man, that last part sounded gay as hell. Though, I do see why you'd miss me." I chuckled a bit, to which he immediately frowned. It was as if scowling at life was his one-way solution to every single problem that presented itself at his door.

"I did not mean it that way, you bloody idiot! It is just that since you are my best friend and all… I have nobody in New York. I guess I will feel a tad lonely."

"Go," I smiled at him, hoping to encourage him. "Maybe you'll like it there—You'll never know if you don't try it, right?"

"I'm still not sure…"

"Kirkland, get in the damn plane now!" His manager's voice ripped us away from our emotionally-overwhelming goodbye—I swear, that could've moved even rocks –which was worth of being in a sappy romance movie. Nah, not a romance one—instead, a real awesome one, the kind that makes girls cry because in the end, things always look grim for the protagonist.

* * *

That is, until an evening in early October of 1999.

With the twenty-first century right around the corner, the Internet was quickly building up popularity and sucking teenagers with lots of free time into the bottomless pit it was, what with the endless hours of pointless searches for stupid things you wouldn't even remember the next days, the now-popular e-mails, let's not forget porn, and… Well, the possibilities seemed endless for this new, promising future.

Perhaps the promises our parents had made in the early nineties would be true, and the 2000s would be nothing more than peace and bliss. I had grown up with the Cold War being the main attraction in every single news emission and in all of the newspapers of the zone, and I couldn't be more thankful when it ended in 1991. I remembered hoping that it would be the last war to ever happen—You can't really blame me; I was just a kid, man.

That morning, after feeling around my beside table for a couple seconds and then finally finding the alarm clock and slamming my palm against it, I uncomfortably stirred around, still half-asleep. It really was beyond gross to have to get up and 6 o'clock just to go to school, which in my opinion, should be burned. I mean, up to high school it'd been cool, I had plenty of friends and it was relatively easy—Except for your class, Mr. Vargas, which I failed, thank you very much –But college, dude, that was a whole new world. I had taken a year out of school before entering it, which was like a twelve-month vacation. Absolutely awesome! Since my mom went to work early, I could always eat burgers for breakfast without her nagging me. Then again, there was my brother Mattie, who kept telling me that they were bad for my health and shit.

What I think is that he really shouldn't talk about that, since he always used like three gallons of maple syrup on his pancakes. At that rate, I really thought he would go diabetic.

Oh, important life advice for you—Never, ever try to make your parents proud. _Why_, I'm sure you'll ask. I know that we all were raised believing that making them proud was the ultimate goal to achieve via studies, sports, or whatever floats your boat, but really… It's not even worth it.

I had wanted to sign up for the military fresh out of high school, but alas, my mom thought it would be a much better idea to keep me confined to Smalltown, USA.

I wanted to help the country—Wasn't that, like, way more important than studying? Anyway. She said it would be good if I tried to follow Mattie's steps and go into college. Despite being my twin, dude had already gotten himself a full scholarship for a nearby college because he 'had an incredibly above-average intelligence quo- quot-' shit, I can't even remember how it was said.

Whatever.

So, since she was practically stuffing down my throat the idea of studying, I did what every single coherent teenager would have done.

I ran away.

…

At least I tried to.

I made the horrible mistake of telling Arthur about my foolproof plan, and he called my mom. Man, how lucky am I to have _had_ such a good best friend! _And what happened next_, you ask.

Yep, you guessed it—I was grounded for a month of no going out. Back then I wasn't really familiar with the internet, so I had spent the whole 30 days locked in hell—I mean in my room –sketching, re-reading school textbooks—Or more like drawing mustaches and crap on the pictures of those weird dudes –and bugging Mattie over the most stupid of things.

I ended up in the same college as Mattie, and chose to major in Law. If I couldn't help by joining the military, I supposed the least I could do would be to defend the innocent, right?

Yeah, I know I'm such a good guy. Whoever marries me is going to be a damn lucky one.

After a horrific day in school—Yeah, it was the kind of days that made you want to steal your worst enemy's fork, stab your eyes out with it and use them as a light ingredient to put some color that wasn't green on the salad of the head cheerleader—I headed back home. As I was about to take the bus I couldn't find my bus card, which resulted in me getting kicked out and I had to walk. Mattie's class would be over until late, so I really was all by myself at the moment.

It was a thirty-minute walk—my lovely hometown didn't really have any universities, so I had to walk over to the next fucking city, thank you very much - but it was definitely worth it for the surprise I would receive upon heading up the stairs and into my room. After calling a quick "I'm home!" I immediately trudged upstairs, turning on my computer. I remember being expecting an e-mail from my aunt in New Mexico, about the vacations I would soon spend with her, her husband, and my cousins.

But what I found… It was far better than that.

**From:** Arthur Kirkland [ _ajames . hetamail . co . uk_ ]

**To:** Alfred F. Jones [ _alfredthehero . hetamail . com _]

**Subject:** Greetings

_Hello, Alfred. I hope you have not forgotten about me. Remember? Your best friend, ever since middle school. Um, if you still live in Topeka, I just wanted to let you know that I will be in town for a couple days, just in case you wanted to meet up, or something. I believe we have plenty of things to talk about, do not we?_

_Until next time, _

_Arthur Kirkland._

How he got my e-mail address, why he was contacting me after such a long time, and what he was doing in a town with barely 90 people as population truly was beyond me.

Not that I was complaining.

* * *

**Word count: 1,518 pre-author's note.**

**Okay, so this idea has been sitting around for a while, and I thought, why not give it a chance? So there you go, this… Whatever this thing is. Anyway, I really hope you like it! Feedback is always welcome, and I'll love you forever if you review. I plan for this story to be a bit long, between 15 to 30 chapters? I'm still not sure. Well, that's it, for now. Until next time!**


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